The butterflies continue to beat their wings right in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision, forcing her to look out over the ocean, to where they rest in that space between water and sky. As she blinks, more of them seem to disappear, or simply fly out of view when she isn't doing her best to watch, when her eyes aren't focused at their prime. And she hears Lily's words. Perhaps that's the most important detail of them all. She hears what Lily's saying, and it makes as much sense as anything does on the island, and so her breathing slows, enough to tug her heart to rest.
"Sometimes," she says quietly, still not looking at Lily yet for the way she'd rather do so when her vision isn't obscured, "I hate this island."
She slides a palm against her forehead, fingers weaving through her hair.
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Date: 2012-01-30 09:18 am (UTC)"Sometimes," she says quietly, still not looking at Lily yet for the way she'd rather do so when her vision isn't obscured, "I hate this island."
She slides a palm against her forehead, fingers weaving through her hair.